


Fear is what drives us; you just have to take hold of the wheel.

by BromeliadLucy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:55:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BromeliadLucy/pseuds/BromeliadLucy
Summary: Based on a prompt on Tumblr: Fear is what drives us, you just have to take hold of the wheel.This is the first fic I've written for Supernatural so be gentle!





	

She was paralysed by fear. Couldn’t go forward, couldn’t go backward. She stood, brain fizzing with adrenaline overload, by the door. Fingertips tingling, hands spasmodically opening and closing while the cold sweat of fear slid slowly down her spine. Her chest felt tight, constricted, and she couldn’t breathe. A small voice in her head said told her she couldn’t stand there forever, that she had to make a move, but she couldn’t. To step forward was to step into her worst nightmare, to risk losing everything; to step back was to fail, and to have to face a life with that failure.

She’d thought she was ready for this, after all the discussions in the Bunker. She’d been through the lore in detail with Sam and Dean, they’d done the research. The more they’d tried to persuade her that there had to be another way, the more she was convinced, stubbornly. And they all knew that there was no other way. This was it. Logically, she was the only person who could do this, and yet… And yet. Now she was trapped by her own bravado. No way forward, no way back.

Back in the Bunker it had seemed so easy. She was half-demon. Child of a demon father and a human mother, she had demon blood running alongside human through her veins. She’d worked so hard, for so long, to reject that side of herself; pushing down the darkness when it welled up and deliberately choosing to live a life on the side of good. She’d taken down her fair share of demons as well, feeling a sense of kinship with their victims far more than with the demons who shared her blood. She’d tracked monsters, saved people, and chosen to be good. Her mother had helped with that. Her mother had never hidden the side of her that she feared, but had trusted her enough to let her choose, and trusted that she’d make the right choice. That sheer act of trust alone had kept her on the side of good.

But doing the right thing was sometimes hard. There were moments when the blood lust swelled in her and she had to bury it deep down again. There were moments when she felt her eyes start to turn black, and she realised how easy it would be to use her powers to simply take what she wanted. When the lust for power rose, it was only the thought of her mother’s trust that brought her down. And for years, each time she had to force the demon within back down, it got a little harder.

It was during one of those bad times that the Winchesters had found her. She’d been out hunting, had tracked a vampire to its nest in a farm, out in the middle of nowhere. She’d hit the nest alone – she always worked alone – and taken out the alpha and its family, and the glee, the sheer pleasure in the kill, was running rich in her. Her blood was singing with the joy of the fight when she headed back into the bar. Heart racing, fuelled by lust, and she didn’t care how that lust was sated, with death or desire. She saw the men in the bar watching her, unknowingly drawn in by the demon calling to them. All bar two of the men, that was. The Winchesters had picked up word of the same nest of vampires as her, but had been one day behind. By the time she was showering at her motel, cleaning the vampire blood from her skin before heading to the bar, they’d been out to the farmhouse and seen the fruits of her day’s work. The blood was splashed floor to ceiling, signs of a killing frenzy, a pleasure in death, not a job. They knew there was a good hunter out, but a fearsome one.

When they saw her enter the bar, they knew enough to sense that she wasn’t fully human, and they knew enough to spot the vampire killer. Despite washing the blood off, she was giving off a primal joy in death that brought men’s eyes to her, the death drive as attractive as sexual desire.

Sam and Dean spoke quietly, trying to decide what she could be. Unsure, Dean rose to speak to her. Sam watched, cautiously, trying to pick up some clues as to what she was. She turned to face Dean, expecting a pick up line, a hand reaching for her body, used to this after so many deaths and so many bars. Her body curved instinctively towards him, hungry eyes needing something to sate the frenzied emotions churned up by the battle between demon and human.

“Not here for that, sweetheart.” Dean’s deep voice and his disinterest cut through her confused mind. She’d not met many able to resist her when the demon was high. Dean signalled to the barman, holding up three fingers, then nodding and took the bottles. “Join us? We need to talk.” She made her way to the table, Sam nodding carefully at her as she sat and put the beer to her lips. She could feel the eyes of the other customers moving away from her now she was no longer available.

Sitting so close to the two men, she could feel her need swinging from death to lust. The booth was small and she could feel her leg against the man beside her, the warmth of his muscle. Her breathing became faster and she drank the beer more slowly now, waiting for one of the men to talk.

“OK, so what are you then? Succubus? Lamia? Interested parties want to know. Because you sure as hell aren’t human and you took out that nest of vamps like a pro.” 

When she realised their knowledge of the darker side of life made them immune to her, she tried to stand up, but they blocked her, preventing her from reaching any of the normal men in the bar, saving the unwitting men from whatever she had planned. Her fury rose as her needs were frustrated, and her eyes began to turn black. Sam and Dean glanced at each other quickly, not needing to speak, as they tried to think of a way to get the demon outside before she could kill, but even as they did so, she pictured her mother, and forced the demonlust down, her eyes turning grey again. The waves of need pouring off her died down at the same time, and men around the bar shook their heads as if a ringing in their ears they hadn’t been aware of had suddenly stopped.

“What the…?” The Winchesters had never seen someone turn off the demonic side of the like that and as she slumped, exhausted, into the booth, she started to talk, explaining her dual inheritance. She talked, long into the night, it had been too long since she’d met anyone who could believe, and understand, what she said. She opened up about how she fought evil, killing monsters, while she slowly lost the fight against the evil inside herself. A true connection with another hunter was pure relief, a chance to unload and be understood, and it was that night that the Winchesters took her under their wing. They had taken her back to the Bunker, working through the lore on demon-human hybrids for help, unknowingly providing the best help with their acceptance, and their own dark sides. She’d found a peace with their support, and it had been a long time now since she’d gone black-eyed.

And now she had to give in to it, relinquish control and give up her hard-won peace, and hope that she could find her way back in the end. Someone needed to enter Hell. Unknown, undetected, to retrieve a weapon. Either of the Winchesters would be instantly recognised if they so much as stepped inside, but not her. Let her demon blood take over and she’d be unnoticeable. But then it would be a battle to let the demon blood run free while retaining enough of her humanity to choose to bring the weapon back. Sam and Dean trusted her, they had no doubts that she could do this. She felt differently, and she was afraid, so very afraid. The humanity she’d fought so hard for could be lost as soon as she turned the handle and stepped through, the portal beyond transporting her to the gates of Hell itself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turning, looked up to see green eyes, filled with compassion. Dean knew her fear; he could sense it and knew it wasn’t a fear of dying, or a fear of pain, but the most exquisite fear, loss. She was afraid of losing herself. Dean had lost so much in his life, and he knew the struggle she faced.

“Screw it kid. You’re bigger than your fear, ‘k?” Sam would have approached with puppy-dog eyes filled with pity, wanting to protect her, and having someone to lean on would have given her the chance to be weak. Dean knew that she needed to find the strength in herself, not from an outside source. And he knew that strength was there.

“I’ve been livin’ with the fear of losing Sam for as long as I can remember now. Lost Mom, lost Dad, Bobby. Lost so many now. Can’t lose Sammy, and I can’t lose you. And I won’t. That fear has pulled me into places I didn’t want to go, got me in to fights I didn’t want to have. But screw it. I decided to take control. I’m in the driving seat now. Gotta treat that fear like Baby. Love that car, you know that, but I hate to admit it, it’s… just a car.” He gulped as he said that. “Just a tool. So’s fear. You take that fear, treat it like a tool, like a weapon. Treat that fear right, you hear me? You shine up that adrenaline rush, tune up your senses, you use that fear to make you better because you don’t let it rule you. Don’t let it control you. Take the wheel of that fear, use the power behind it. Fear’s a powerful engine baby.”

Her senses _were_ heightened, the adrenaline making everything sharper, sounds clearer, responses faster. Her fear was like a knife inside, sharp and unforgettable. She could give in to the knife, let it kill her, or she could hold onto that pain and let it guide her back to herself. She drew in a deep breath, chest looser, and nodded, then turned back and opened the door.

Was it hours later? Days? Time in hell was pretty meaningless. She’d got in, she’d been unnoticed, giving off no human scent that would draw the demons. She’d got the weapon, and she’d got out. Her heart was racing and the chemical rush was making her body shake, but that delicious fear reminded her that she was human. A demon wouldn’t be scared, they’d revel in the suffering they’d seen, they’d dance with delight at the torments. Not her. That fear was hers and it had brought her home. Her eyes brightened, the black long gone now, and she smiled. With the portal closed, and the weapon in Sam’s hands, the smile broadened, the fear giving way to relief and a giddy, dizzy sense of accomplishment.

With the mission over, they were all ecstatic now. She threw her head back and laughed with triumph, she’d beaten Crowley, she’d beaten Hell, and most importantly, she’d conquered her fear. She’d won. It wouldn’t control her again, she’d use it. 

Dean and Dam were laughing along with her in relief and delight as they all checked out of the motel. She was talking nineteen to the dozen, the euphoria making her spin in front of them, catching their hands and pulling them along with her, her happiness contagious as they all smiled.

“So, I took the wheel of my fear, just like you said…!”

“Yes, you did. You sure did kid, you did good.” Dean wasn’t afraid to admit now that he’d been terrified at the thought of losing her to the dark. Seeing her walk back through the door, and her eyes fade back to grey had made his throat tighten, and he’d had to turn away to hide his emotions. He’d do anything for her, and he’d only realised it as he’d seen her walk into Hell.

“…so any chance I can take the wheel now today? Can I drive Baby? Just this once, as a reward?”

Dean’s face darkened, his eyes widening with indignation.

“Not a chance in HELL, kid. Not a chance in hell.”


End file.
